Salvation, or Sickness?
Welcome to Swampton County
Every man has a sickness that needs curing. For some it is booze, or drugs, or gambling; for others the allures of “loose” women in sundresses with no bra and too much makeup who smoke menthol cigarettes.
For Hank Shakes, it was fishing.
The waters of the Cattywampus Church of Christ baptism pond are said to have magical powers of healing and rejuvenation.
Momma Shakes rubbed this holy water on her dog’s belly, and it passed a dozen healthy puppies that were all housebroken easily and never once chased cars or bit the U.S. Mail lady.
Wictor Lawton, Swampton County’s oldest living resident, takes a bath in those waters every full moon, whether he needs it or not, and even mixes a little with his Old Crow whiskey. He stopped counting birthdays at 107.
Pee Wee Palmer, the town pervert, swears that he poured a quart of it down his britches and cured those nasty genital warts he picked up at the last family reunion.
Every man has a sickness that needs curing. For some it is drink, for some drugs or gambling, for others the allures of loose women who wear sundresses with no bra and too much makeup, and smoke menthol cigarettes.
For Hank Shakes, it was fishing, and in that regard he was a sick man indeed.
And he had heard a lot of incredible legends about the fish in that sacred baptism pond behind the one-room, country church – tales of whopper largemouth bass blessed by the Lord himself to reach monster size and possess almost mythical fighting strength.
But the Apostle Reverend Dr. Trent, himself a fisher of bass as well as a fisher of men, guarded the secrets of those sacred waters closely, like St. Peter at the pearly gates of Heaven.
“Come on, Reverend, please!” Hank had begged the good Apostle Rev. Doc. “Just let me fish that magical baptism hole one time! I’ll do anything!”
“I’ll cut grass at the church and the cemetery. I’ll come to Sunday School and Sunday morning services. I’ll empty my pockets into the offering plate and even bring the fried chicken for dinner on the grounds, if you will just let me fish that blessed pond!”
So, after months of undignified begging, Hank sold his soul to the Lord, and found himself cleaned up and standing between the Cattywampus Church of Christ pews with a songbook in hand come Sunday morning. All around him were the freshly scrubbed faces of cherub-like children, matrons in fine clothing with large, elegant headwear, men in their Sunday finest, angelic voices floating from the choir.
But the only thing Hank noticed was the pond through the cracked stained-glass window. It tempted him, beckoned to him, spoke to his soul. A window to the gates of Heaven!
Maybe it was the emotion and excitement of the service, and the way the Ap. Rev. Dr. stomped his foot when he talked about sin, or perhaps his impatience to get into that sacred water and start catching behemoth bass, but sometime during the sermon (probably the part about the loaves and fishes) Hank became overcome by the Holy Spirit and jumped up, begging to be baptized right away!
Always eager to save the lost, Ap. Rev. Dr. Trent immediately stopped the service and rushed everyone to the shores of the pond to dip the disdainful, damned sinner in the Lord’s forgiving waters and saving grace.
“Is it going to hurt, Reverend?” the old sinner Hank asked, as he stood waist deep in the holy waters with the preacher. “Is it going to burn? I’ve been a pretty bad boy. I once stole a fish from a crippled child on a Make-A-Wish fishing trip, and there’s still a restraining order on me down there at SeaWorld.”
“You’ll be fine, my son,” Trent reassured him. “Just count to five and it will all be over.”
After the proper Scripture, Ap. Rev. Dr. Trent submerged Hank for exactly five full seconds, as he had done for hundreds of churchgoers before, to give the water time to wash all the sin away.
Hank emerged, sputtering, a new man washed in the blood of the Lamb! The divine waters had purged him of every sin and every impure thought and vice – except for one: fishing.
The next morning, Hank dodged work and evaded his wife, as was his habit, and stood in the morning mist beholding his newfound heaven. There was a slight breeze, not much dew on the grass, fish already jumping in the early light. He cherished a deep breath of cool damp air and made his first cast. Almost immediately, a monster of a bass annihilated his top water frog in a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping splash!
Hallelujuh! Praise the Lord!
Moments later, he held the beast up toward the heavens in gratitude and then weighed him. Hank gulped and felt the presence of a higher power. The Reverend had held him beneath the water for exactly five seconds, and here before him was a five-pound bass.
It was a mathematical miracle!
An hour later, his creel was full of fish, all miraculously weighing five pounds each…
*******
It’s the Sabbath again, and Ap. Rev. Dr. Trent is really going to town with his sermon, stepping hard on the toes of all the wrongdoers and asking anyone and everyone to come forward and be saved or give tithes to the church. Some say he works the offering plate on commission, you know, and others whisper that he gets a bonus every time a sinner gets saved.
Suddenly, the preacher hears a loud voice from the back pew and is astonished to see Hank dressed in fishing hat and lucky waders and waving a Holy Bible, King James version.
“Me! Me!” shouted Hank. “Lord, take me! Wash my sins away! I want to be baptized again!”
“Only this time, can you hold me under for ten seconds?”